


Just as planned

by Moonshine_Givens



Category: Justified
Genre: First Time, Homophobia, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshine_Givens/pseuds/Moonshine_Givens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, he knows what Boyd wants, but Boyd hasn’t made his move yet, so things can’t be as bad as he thinks. Raylan only has to make sure Boyd doesn’t talk about it, that he doesn’t let Boyd drag him down into this madness, and they’ll be okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just as planned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HalfshellVenus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfshellVenus/gifts).



> Hey there, gunslingers! I hope everyone enjoys this little work, specially you, HalfshellVenus! I loved all of your prompts and I started a lot of different fics, but I ended up finishing this one. Really really hope you like it!  
> Her prompt was: Don't turn your back on this one, son.  
> My lovely beta was wargasms . She's the best!! Thank you, love!

They have been heading towards that direction for a while, now. Raylan knows it, because it was kind of hard to miss, but that doesn’t mean he likes it, or that he’ll acknowledge it. It surely doesn’t mean he’ll let it get to that, that he’ll see it through. It’s just, sometimes he slips, crap happens, Boyd gets away with it. Sometimes he says things without thinking, and he touches without planning. But he won’t let it happen. He won’t.

Things are getting dangerous now, every day it keeps getting worse. It was okay when they were nine and they played together in the backyard, keeping quiet so they wouldn’t bother their daddies, and Boyd would whisper _“You’re my best friend, Raylan, and I’ll never leave you”_. It was okay then, because they were kids, they didn’t know better.

It was okay when they were sixteen and sometimes they would sit too closer together, because Raylan was hurting, his momma was dying and his daddy was a drunk, violent asshole. They could share heat in the back of the truck and look at the stars and Boyd could whisper _“I’m here, Raylan”_ , and it wouldn’t be bad, because damn, Raylan needed the comfort. And besides, Boyd had fear behind his eyes, had this hesitation holding his movements that told Raylan that they would be okay, that things wouldn’t go too far.

But that’s gone now.

That’s gone and things are getting dangerous, they’re eighteen and they’re not students anymore, they’re not kids, they’re working the mines and Boyd is not afraid any longer. Boyd is not looking as if he’s scared of his own skin, they’re pass that point – Raylan guesses that’s because Boyd had years to get used to feeling this way, so now Boyd just looks like he wants, like fire and lust.

It’s right there in his eyes, clear as daylight.

Raylan thinks that’s quite unfair, in a long list of unfair shit that has been haunting his life. He honestly thought they were going to ignore it, keep things as they always were: that slow burn of unwanted need that would be the eternal subtext of their friendship. Then someday it would go away, like a bad childhood habit you lose along the way – one day you hate brushing your teeth, the next day you’re thirteen and you can’t imagine what the world would be like if someone hasn’t invented the toothbrush. One day you want your best friend, the next day you’re twenty and you can’t imagine what his touch would feel like anymore.

( _You’ll be older and you won’t lay in your bed thinking about his touch, Raylan. You won’t think about taste – the taste of his skin, of his mouth, of his cock, of his come. You won’t think about biting, sucking, scratching, fucking. You’ll be older and it’ll all go away, just give it time, Raylan, just give it time._ )

But apparently that’s not what Boyd thinks, that’s not how Boyd will play this game – the boy smiles at him like he knows everything, and of course he does, Raylan knows everything as well, but that doesn’t mean he’ll do jack shit about it. The boy smiles, though, all teeth and danger, smiles and leans closer, and now when he whispers, he whispers right against his ear, breathing hard over Raylan’s skin, making him shiver: “ _You look good ‘nough to eat in them jeans, Raylan._ ”

Danger, danger.

Boyd will laugh right after, like this is their own version of gay chicken, just another game between them, nothing to worry about, nothing to see here. What can Raylan say to that? To any outsider, Boyd is just being an asshole, and there’s no danger, no fire. The thing is, Raylan knows better, and he can see quite clearly the direction they are heading.

It ends tonight, Raylan resolves, scrubbing the black coal off of his skin under the stream. It was just after the last shift of the week, and Raylan knew that, as soon as he left the showers, Boyd was going to be outside waiting for him, ready to ask him to come and have a drink. Not tonight.

“Well, Raylan, you sure took your sweet time in that shower. Did you wash behind your ears, boy?” _Fuck you and your million dollar smile_ , Raylan thinks. “We going to that place up Woodland Hill or we going to Audrey’s?”

“Audrey’s.” Raylan answers easily, already moving to the passenger seat in Boyd’s truck.

It takes him a whole minute to realize what he’d done.

He just wasn’t expecting that question. He was ready to answer Boyd that he couldn’t drink tonight, that he had to go home, that he didn’t had money, that he was feeling a bit sick, that he may have the flu or a headache or the fucking plague, anything, he could say just about anything. But Boyd didn’t ask if they were going to drink, he only asked where they were going to drink, and Raylan’s answer was kind of a knee jerk reaction. Not his fault at all.

“So,” Boyd starts, after they’re already on the road to Audrey’s. “Think we should stop by Johnny’s, see if he’s up to something? Maybe we can get him to even buy his own drinks this time.”

It would be good, right? To have another guy with them, make this a friendly night between the Crowder boys and Raylan. It would save them from getting too close, too intimate; Boyd would never make a move with his cousin there. In fact, thinking about it, Johnny could be the savior of this night. Raylan just has to say the word.

“Dunno, Boyd,” he catches himself saying, no idea why. “I… don’t really feel like being ‘round too many people.”

What the hell, brain.

Well, truth is, Raylan is never quite sure about Johnny. The guy seems okay enough to spend some time with, but he’s more than half involved with Bo’s business, and he has this air of being the heir of the Crowder Empire. Honestly, Raylan couldn’t give less of a fuck about the Crowder Empire, and he’s quite sure Boyd wants to be as far as possible of his daddy’s business as he can, but Raylan is already anticipating the war Johnny’s ambitions will someday ignite, be it with Boyd or Bowman. It won’t be pretty.

“Three is a crowd, hm?” Boyd says, without thinking twice about it. “That’s alright. It’ll just be you and me tonight, then.”

Raylan nods, but snorts right after. “Yeah, right. You, me and about twenty hookers.”

Boyd looks at him without turning his head, still paying attention to the road.

“Are you alright, Raylan? We don’t have to drink tonight, you know. I could just drop you home.”

Yes, that would be for the best; that would be amazing. Boyd is giving him the perfect out, and he should take it: they’re too close to the edge tonight; Raylan can feel it in every minute they spend together. He should go home and take another shower, sleep it off.

Part of his brain says he’s being a baby about it. Yes, he knows what Boyd wants, but Boyd hasn’t made his move yet – _yet_ – so things can’t be as bad as he thinks. Besides, going back home means going back to Arlo, going back to that miserable room and probably picking a fight with his dad. He would like it better to just spend time talking shit with Boyd, even if it’s dangerous, even if it’s fire. He only has to make sure Boyd doesn’t talk about it, that he doesn’t let Boyd drag him down with this madness, and they’ll be okay.

“No, I’m… I’m fine. Let’s just drink, ‘kay?” Then, Raylan thinks about something else. “No, actually… I’m not sure I wanna go to Audrey’s.”

“Goddammit, Raylan, we should have gone the other way if you wanted to drink at Woodland Hill.” Boyd is annoyed, but already preparing himself to turn the car around, and Raylan can see he’s mentally tracing the road to get back to Woodland Hill.

Raylan touches him on the arm to stop the movement, his hand staying just a little longer over Boyd’s covered skin.

“I don’t wanna go to Woodland Hill. I just… could we not… I just want to…” He can’t exactly say what he wants, what he’s running from, mostly because he doesn’t know himself. “I just wanna drink with you, Boyd.”

Boyd stays silent as Raylan finally takes his hand off the other man’s arm. It’s stupid, but Raylan can almost convince himself that he’s got a rational drive behind this: if things got risky between them, if Boyd did or said anything, Raylan is sure he can deal with it if they’re alone. In Audrey’s, they’ll most certainly find other miners, men they know from all over Harlan, and Raylan won’t get to do much of anything – like, let’s say, punching Boyd – without making it a show. So, he would rather play it safe, you know, going somewhere else where they could drink and Raylan could react freely if he had to stop Boyd’s actions. That is definitely rational.

“You sayin’ you don’t wanna go to a bar?” Boyd asks, finally turning his head to look at Raylan, confusion clear in his face. “Well… okay, man. If you’re not feeling in a very social mood this particular evening, I’m sure we can entertain ourselves in the comfort of my humble home. Bowman and daddy had to go to Frankfurt for the weekend to attend their business transactions. I got some Wild Turkey. Hell, maybe daddy still has some of the Bennett’s apple pie, you sure like that. I’m afraid I ain’t got no Jim Beam, but we can play cards and eat some chicken.”

Raylan smiles slowly, feeling happier with this turn of events, without a clear idea of why. Boyd smiles back, eyes off the road too much for it to be safe, but Raylan trusts the man’s reflexes. Hell, he trusts Boyd’s everything. That’s why he tunes out the little voice in his head that says getting behind closed doors in an empty house with Boyd Crowder could only bring him trouble.

Later that night, he’ll wish he heard those words with a little bit more care.

*****

They get to Boyd’s without talking much after that, and Raylan is feeling weird all over: half of his mind is anxious over this night, as if he’s somehow certain Boyd will chose this one night to fuck things up between them. The other half is just happy he’s here, not at some noisy hooker’s bar having to deal with a proposal every five minutes and drinking with the assholes he barely tolerates in working hours. Here is quieter, and he has everything he really needs to have a good night.

Meaning, of course, booze and cards. Of course.

Boyd says he’ll change into something more comfortable and be back in a second, and Raylan spends a whole minute wondering if this was Boyd’s plan all alone, if now that he got Raylan alone in his house, Boyd will come down stairs and stand in front of him completely naked, as Raylan once saw a chick do in a bad porn.

Or, no, this would be too simple for a man like Boyd. Maybe Boyd will come downstairs wearing only jeans, no shirt at all, and Raylan wouldn’t be able to say anything against it: he’s at his own place, and it’s a fine hot day, so it’s perfectly excusable for the man to go walking around shirtless. Raylan would not have a good excuse to object and would have to deal with the tempting body of the half-naked Crowder so close the whole night.

This kind of devious move is more Boyd’s style.

Raylan is wrong, though, and when Boyd makes his way back to the living room, he’s wearing an old – but still decent – pair of jeans and a wife beater, walking with bare feet. He brings the promised bottle of Wild Turkey in one hand and two glasses in the other, and seems happy enough to share with Raylan. Not so devious, then.

…or maybe he’s even worse that Raylan would first thought, since that wife beater is surely as inviting as Boyd’s naked chest would be, and the way he seems relaxed and careless inside the old clothes makes him even more attractive. Damn.

“I gotta say, Raylan, it’s nice to be home.” Boyd says as he sits in the couch besides Raylan, far enough that they don’t touch. “I was hoping to find some warm company for the night in the arms of pretty lady, but I suppose the night is not wasted when you have a good friend by your side.”

What is he saying? Is he saying Raylan ruined his plans of getting laid or is he saying Raylan might be the one to provide warm company? It was hard to read between the lines with Boyd sometimes. Raylan squints at the man beside him, shakes his head and takes the drink that is being offered. After a sip, he ends up answering in a very quiet voice:

“I’m better off spending time with you than with any chick.”

He’s not quite sure why he says it, but it’s true, in a way. And not just because he feels attracted to the man, no, he’s not going to do anything about that, and he’s going to stop Boyd if the man ever attempts anything. It’s also because they can sit beside each other and talk in quiet voices, comfortable in a way Raylan doesn’t feel with anyone else. It has been like this since forever, since the first time Boyd whispered in his ear all those years ago, hands dirty with grass from the Givens’ back yard. Raylan knows Boyd is now looking at his profile, but he can’t find the courage to raise his eyes at the man, and looks down his full glass instead. The liquid is beautiful in this light, and Raylan has the horrible feeling that Boyd’s eyes will be as well.

“Is that so, Raylan? Well, I’m flattered you feel that way.” Boyd laughs after a second, taking the weight out of the words. “It’s surely good to have you as a friend.”

Friend, right, this is a wonderful, normal word, this is exactly what they are; they’re friends, close friends who drink with each other and work together and sometimes want to attack each other’s mouth and Raylan…

“Friend?” Raylan asks before he can stop himself, still looking down at his glass.

Boyd is quiet for a moment, and Raylan has no doubt his face is pure confusion right now.

“Well, yes, Raylan. I do consider you a good friend of mine. Why?” Boyd laughs again, but it sounds faked this time, faked and nervous. “What do you consider me?”

Raylan swallows, drinks the bourbon, swallows again. Fuck, what do you answer to that? Boyd is playing mind games with him.

“I… I just…” he starts, glances at Boyd, looks back at his hands fast. “Sometimes… I want… something else. Something else, yeah. You know?”

He raises his eyes, and Boyd is not even pretending to drink anymore, mouth open, staring at Raylan with a completely dumb struck expression on his face. It’s not often that something is capable of making Boyd Crowder speechless, and maybe that little sign should have warned Raylan off. No such luck, though.

“I’m not sure if I’m following you here, Raylan.” Boyd says, finally, really slowly, without taking his eyes off his friend. “What do you mean, ‘something else’?”

Raylan is suddenly tired; tired of playing those games, of wanting Boyd and knowing Boyd wants him and waiting around for the day Boyd will finally make a move and fuck everything up. He gets rid of the glass in his hand, placing it beside Boyd’s drink in the coffee table nearby, turns his body to Boyd, grabs the wife beater with his right hand, and kisses the man.

The first thought he has during the kiss is, “Finally”.

He doesn’t have the time to have a second thought, though. Boyd is pushing him back on the couch not a second after, getting up on his feet and away from Raylan as quickly as his body manages.

“Wh-what…” he stutters, hands waving around and eyes big. “Raylan, what the hell was that?”

Raylan stops, lips still hurting from the way he slammed them against Boyd’s. All this time… it’s not possible that… is it?

“Boyd,” he starts, trying to remain calm and breathing slowly, his head spinning. “Please tell me I’m not completely wrong about what was happening here.”

“What was… happening…?” Boyd looks around, seeming lost in a way Raylan never saw before. Shit, shit shit shit, shitshitshit. “I… Raylan, my friend, I don’t think I understand.”

“I thought…” Raylan swallows hard, feels on the edge of screaming, of running, so he talks in an even lower voice, trying to control himself. He starts again: “I thought you wanted.”

He can’t bring himself to say wanted me. It’s already painful enough to see realization dawning on Boyd after a moment.

“I…” Boyd has a hand in his face, and his mouth opens and closes a few times, his eyes scanning the room as if looking for the right words hanging from the walls. “I’m not sure what to tell you. I’ve never… I’ve never even thought about it.”

He never thought about it. All those years, all those months Raylan was certain he could see hunger and lust in Boyd’s eyes, they were all wishful thinking. All those games and teasing words, that’s all they really were, a silly game of gay chicken his friend thought they were comfortable enough around each other to do. Innocent touches that would remain innocent; wanting that was Raylan’s. And Raylan’s alone.

In a second, Raylan is up on his feet, walking fast towards the door.

“Raylan, no.” Boyd runs after him, reaches out a hand, but stops before touching him. “You don’t have to go, I’m not mad, listen, it was an honest to God mistake, I won’t tell anyone…”

Raylan feels like an idiot with every passing second, and can’t imagine a worst place to be than in Boyd’s living room right now. Hell will surely be less awkward.

In fact, hell seems like a really cozy option right now, so Raylan might hang himself tonight, just to try it out.

He stops walking, though, because he feels he owes Boyd something, even if he’s quite sure he won’t be able to deliver. He looks at his own boots and at the Crowder’s ugly and dirty carpet, thinking about throwing up.

God, he could at least have waited to drink a little more before he decided to throw all caution to the wind, and now he can’t even blame the alcohol.

“Look, Boyd, just forget I said… I did anything, all right. I’m… I’m sorry.” In all the possible scenarios Raylan thought their first kiss could happen, it never ended with him saying he was sorry. “I won’t bother you ever again.”

“Raylan, c’mon, it’s not like that!” But Raylan is already walking towards the door again, time he won’t stop. “Let me at least drive you home!”

As Raylan slams the door behind himself, he couldn’t think of a worse idea that Boyd could come up with: that they’d spend another ten minutes inside a car, nowhere to go, near each other. No. Raylan would rather walk.

*****

 _“I’ve never even thought about it.”_ Never. Raylan was an idiot. Boyd didn’t want him; Boyd wanted a pretty chick with blond hair and nice boobs. They were friends, Boyd was a good friend, Boyd was there for him when his momma died, and Raylan was a pervert and an asshole. Boyd probably thought he was disgusting now.

All those days he spent thinking Boyd was plotting to get into his pants; he was projecting his own needs and wants over the other man. Boyd was an honest to God straight, normal boy, not a sick bended _fag_ like Raylan.

His best friend, and Raylan had tried to kiss him. What kind of man does something like that? Boyd never thought about it, never even considered the possibility of touching Raylan, of kissing him, of fucking him. It was something so ridiculous, so absurd, Boyd would never dream about it.

It was all Raylan could think about.

Of course, he knows his own ego is the one to blame. If he had, for just one second, stopped to think that Boyd could not return his feelings ( _feelings_ , ugh…), he wouldn’t have made such a mess of the whole thing. But no, he had believed that Boyd was just as charmed by him as he was charmed by Boyd. Fucking asshole.

But it would be okay. After spending the whole weekend in silent despair, considering all the possible excuses he could come up with to never exit his room ever again, he finally understood he was acting like a little bitch.

Fine. He had feelings over his male best friend. He’d thought those feelings were reciprocated. Finally, he had kissed said male best friend, scaring the shit out of him and probably ending their friendship forever. No reason to turn into a whining baby over it. He would go to work, stay out of Boyd’s way, come back home, fight with Arlo, and go to sleep. Someday he would find his way out of Harlan, and he would laugh about this stupid childhood crush. Yeah.

Unlike his previous plan of not-submitting to the gay urges, this one goes much better.

He manages to ignore every attempt Boyd makes to engage him in a talk, be it by changing his shifts with other miners so he could avoid Boyd altogether or just finding escape routes really fast. It’s tiresome and it means Raylan will have to drink low quality moonshine alone hiding in the woods, but it’s also the only way Raylan can think of not making things even more awkward.

Raylan lives two weeks like this, and by the third week, Boyd keeps sending him glances, but is not trying to corner him anymore, so that’s a good enough week. Before he knows it, it’s Friday again, and he’s ready to end his shitty work and planning to go home as soon as he ends this shift.

All in all, maybe Raylan should stop making plans.

He’s not sure how he ends up in Audrey’s. Maybe it’s Ty Anderson’s fault, the fucker who kept asking Raylan out loud why the hell no one has seen him drinking lately. Something happening in your love life, Givens? Raylan is fast to deny this stupid accusation, but realizes belatedly that it would be for the best to confirm the man’s suspicions. Of course, Anderson had no way of knowing he had kissed Boyd, was just asking Raylan if he’d found a girlfriend yet. If Raylan had kept his head cool for two seconds, he would see the out for what it was. But, no. So, now he didn’t really have an excuse to give all the men wondering why the hell he wouldn’t drink something at Audrey’s.

Of course, Boyd couldn’t be a good ex-best friend and sit this one out. The asshole had to go with them to Audrey’s.

Now Raylan was sitting in a table with a bunch of men he only had the mine in common, and Boyd fucking Crowder choose to sit right in front of him, making it impossible for Raylan not to stare at the other man’s serious expression.

Two drinks in, and the shit hits the fan, because that’s Raylan’s life, and Boyd won’t even let him get drunk.

Everyone is laughing at some stupid story Jeff was telling, everyone but Boyd. Raylan at least was pretending to socialize, but the man sat there, looking unblinking at Raylan with solemn eyes. Then, he decides to talk, loud enough that the whole table listen.

“My good friend Raylan, I’m surely happy you chose to join us tonight, everyone was missing your joyful presence lately.” There was no way for Raylan to decide if Boyd was being sarcastic or not, so he decides taking a sip of his drink is the best answer. “Besides, I needed to talk to you in a friendlier environment than the mines. It’s about the proposition you made me not a month ago.”

Raylan freezes on the spot. He never thought Boyd would talk about what happened between them, not to a living soul, because Boyd might not be in lust with him, but the man always cared. Maybe he was wrong, again. Maybe he didn’t know Boyd at all.

All the men in the table are now listening to the conversation, without even being subtle about it. Boyd turns his body towards the rest of the group, smiling easily.

“Raylan here had a small business offer to make me a few weeks ago.” Raylan can breathe again after Boyd’s words; of course Boyd wasn’t such an asshole. “Since it was such a novelty, I got a bit scared and told him I didn’t want in on it.”

“You made yourself quite clear, Boyd.” Raylan says. They’re the first words he has directed at Boyd since that day in his house. “No need to bring it up again.”

He tries to keep the bitterness out of the words, but is not sure he manages.

“Well, I’m happy to tell you I had time to re-think my position.” Boyd turns to him again, and his eyes shine with the hidden meaning under his words. “I thought hard about it, Raylan. I couldn’t see how genius your plan was when you first told me about it, but I… I can see it now. In fact, I would say it’s life changing. If you’re still interested, that is.”

Raylan drinks another sip, just to have time to think about what he’ll do here, what exactly Boyd’s words mean. Not reading Boyd right was what got him in this mess in the first place. He’s tired of misinterpretations, but the way Boyd said the word “interested” left so little to imagination Raylan is wondering how the hell they’re not being stoned right now.

He gets up suddenly, finishing his drink in a big swallow and throwing a couple of notes in the table, sick of this bar and these miners, sick of the situation he arranged himself. He starts walking away, when he hears Boyd’s voice, calm and grave:

“Don’t turn your back on this one, son.”

Raylan turns. Sitting by the table was a completely different Boyd Crowder, his eyes sparkling with feeling and his fingers opening and closing on his glass, lips parted and wet.

So this is how Boyd Crowder looks when he’s lusting after you.

“I… I was not walking away.” Raylan lied. Of course he was, he was going to run away from the bar as fast as he could. “I just thought, we can’t rightly talk business in here. Maybe we should step outside for a second.”

Damn. Boyd’s smile was worth every fucking shit storm coming Raylan’s way.

*****

“Where to?”

“Anywhere we can talk.” Raylan can’t quite look at Boyd in the driver’s seat, but he knows Boyd’s still looking at him.

“It’s not the talking I’m worried ‘bout here, son.”

Goddammit, of course Boyd would be like that. First the fucker turns him down, now this. Raylan stares out the window.

“Yeah, well… we can…” Raylan has to swallow, start over. “Aunt Helen went out with Arlo today, she won’t be home. We could go to her place, I have the keys.”

“Sounds good to me,” Boyd answers, and the drive there is awkward as hell, just like Raylan thought it would be: they’re both silent, and Raylan has no idea how to start this, or if Boyd should be the one to start it. He jumps out of the car and goes to Helen’s front door as soon as Boyd’s truck slows down enough.

Aunt Helen’s house looks just like her sister’s house, the same fake flowers, and the same landscape paintings on the wall. It’s enough to make Raylan self-conscious, as if his momma and his aunt were just in the kitchen, listening to a conversation that’ll surely go bad.

“Look, Boyd…” he starts, turning to look directly at Boyd for the first time since they left the bar.

Boyd raises his right hand, though, stopping Raylan. “Let me start this time, alright?” he takes one step forward, towards Raylan. “I know I owe you an apology. When you kissed me last time, it was a bit of an unforeseen turn of events from my side, so you must understand why I couldn’t respond accordingly. Now, we can talk ‘bout that, and about our feelings, and about what this means to our sexuality and to our friendship, or we can finish what we started before the lovely Miss Helen comes back from her date.”

Boyd is closer now, just a couple of steps away, and he’s still smiling, even if he looks a bit insecure. Raylan feels like punching him. He knows quite well that Helen is not coming back home once she’s gone out with Arlo, not tonight, but if that’s the excuse Boyd wants to use, fine. Let’s go with that.

“What _we_ started?” Raylan says, walking the last steps towards Boyd, getting close enough to touch. “We didn’t start shit, asshole, I started something. Now it’s your move.”

Boyd’s smile becomes predatory really fast, and that’s better, that’s more like Raylan always thought this would go: the danger he always felt when Boyd was around him. Crowder tips his head back, eyes sparkling, licking his lips in a deliberate act.

“Is that so, Raylan?” he asks, voice low and hoarse, finally touching, spreading his fingers over Raylan’s chest and getting even closer, his breath ghosting over Raylan’s lips. “You sayin’ you gonna wait on me?”

Boyd is a fucker, and that’s why he stands there, fully pressed on Raylan, his fingers closing around his shirt, warm and desirable and less than a breath away from kissing his lips. He doesn’t, doesn’t close the distance, just breathes over Raylan’s parted lips and lick his own over and over, eye lids heavy and breathe uneven. It’s the cheapest way of seduction, and Raylan swears he won’t give in, won’t give Boyd the satisfaction; he stands there, hands dying to touch but curled in fists at his side, eyes almost closing, feeling the warmth of Boyd’s body getting him harder by the minute. But Boyd’s hard as well, the anticipation is too much for both of them, and still Raylan thinks he’ll manage, he’ll get what he wants; he’s convinced he’ll be alright, until Boyd’s right hand travel down his body and closes around his waist, just as Raylan catches a hint of bourbon in Boyd’s breath.

Fuck it all to hell.

Raylan is closing the distance himself and grabbing Boyd by the neck with force, slamming his lips as he finally gets to taste the other man. And it’s wonderful, it’s so much better this time, because Boyd opens under him and kisses with the same hunger, not shying away, demanding Raylan’s mouth just as much. Boyd’s hands are all over now, squeezing his waist and pulling his hair, Boyd tastes like bourbon and has so many teeth, biting and licking. Raylan feels hot all over…

“Damn, cowboy. That’s how it’s gonna be?” Boyd asks against his mouth, moving to bite over his neck, and Raylan doesn’t understand for a moment, but then he gets it: his left hand has been grabbing Boyd’s ass for a while now, and Raylan gets even more worked up on the implication that he can have it if he wants it. He squeezes the flesh under his fingers, making sure Boyd feels it even through the jeans, and listen as Boyd moans against his neck.

Boyd is getting Raylan out of his clothes now, opening his shirt and pushing at his pants as if they’re going to open if he pushes long enough. They’re both suddenly shirtless, Raylan has no idea how they got to that, but as he watches Boyd kicking his shoes out of the way, it’s quite clear that this is it: they’re about to fuck in Helen’s living room, and if things are already messy while they’re only half naked, Raylan can only imagine the chaos having actual sex will bring to the place.

“We can’t fuck in here.”

“What?” Boyd looks confused, slowly rocking against Raylan’s thigh as if he’s not aware of doing it.

“Fuck – you know, sex. We gonna do it?”

“No, Raylan, ‘course not.” Boyd is breathless and annoyed, but his bitch face loses its strength since his hands are still travelling Raylan’s body. “We came all the way here so we’d have a nice cup of your Aunt Helen’s brew. What the hell would we be doin’ if we ain’t gonna fuck, boy?”

“No, asshole, we are going to fuck.” Raylan grabs his ass cheeks with both hands, half lifts him from the ground, making sure the signs are clear this time. “I’m just sayin’ we can’t fuck in the living room, we’ll make a mess.”

Boyd kisses him then, long and sweet, rubbing his own naked chest against Raylan’s, and hell, that alone was worth the last awkward weeks, and some.

“Like hearin’ you talk ‘bout us fucking,” Boyd whispers against his skin, making Raylan shiver. “Makes me hot all over for you.”

Hot, yeah, they’re definitely hot for each other, and all Raylan can feel is Boyd’s warmth…

And that gives him an excellent idea.

“We could use the shower.” Raylan has to grab Boyd’s hair, pull him back, far enough so he’ll pay attention and stop confusing Raylan with his mouth. “C’mon, Boyd, we can do it in the shower. That way we won’t get anything dirty. Let’s go, move your ass.”

Raylan half drags him upstairs towards Helen’s nicest bathroom, the one with a big tub. The other man is so warm and looks so hungry Raylan can’t help but stop to kiss him every couple of seconds, the taste of Boyd Crowder just as addicting as anyone would guess.

When they finally get to the bathroom, Raylan closes the door behind himself, even if he knows no one’s coming home. He stops a second to look at Boyd, leaning against the sink: shirtless Boyd Crowder, flushed and out of breathe, his black hair even more of a mess than it usually is; eyes sparkling and lips parted, the fact that he’s barefoot making him strangely more sexy; as was the amount of tanned skin for show, all long, hard lines and angles, the muscles the skinny boy acquired working the mine. Raylan has to stop and look, because this is it, what he’s been waiting for.

“What made you change your mind?” Raylan asks, voice barely there, less than a whisper.

Boyd doesn’t look away, don’t stop or stutter, he just keeps shamelessly looking Raylan up and down, and there’s no doubt in his voice.

“I thought about it. Before you kissed me I never let myself wonder, I never considered that we could… it wasn’t a possibility. But then you made it possible, and I thought about it, how it could be, how it would go, and it all made sense, all those years, everythin’ we always were to each other. It made sense, and it was suddenly the only thing I could think of.”

Boyd’s words hit Raylan with a wave of happiness; clear and pure joy. He can’t contain the smile that rips across his face; Boyd wants him as well, and Raylan feels all the anger slipping right off of him, leaving him with an overwhelming feeling of tenderness. He doesn’t want to feel that way, he wants to slam Boyd’s body and fuck him hard against the bathroom tiles, but he can’t find it in him anymore: he walks over Boyd and touches his face with gentle fingers, tracing his jaw and getting lost in his huge green eyes. He felt silly for half a second, as if Boyd would laugh at him or turn him down again; but then Boyd is leaning his face against his touch, kissing his palm and closing his eyes, reminding Raylan of a cat Frances used to love, now long gone.

He deals with the fact maybe he really is silly, but Boyd won’t judge him for it, and that’s more than enough.

When they kiss again, it is yet another novelty: a slow, warm kiss that is so much more sensual. Raylan can still taste the bourbon but he can now taste Boyd as well; he feels Boyd’s hard on just as before, but he also feels Boyd’s heart beating against his own chest. As he encircles Boyd’s body, open hands against his shoulder blades, he gets that they don’t have to hurry, that they can do this in their own time, because they’re both where they want to be.

It’s so amazing that Raylan feels his chest hurting, his heart skipping a beat, in the most terrible cliché ever.

“I’m here, Raylan.” Boyd says in a low tone against his mouth, not teasing anymore, honest and sweet. “I wanna feel you.”

They look in each other’s eyes again: Jesus, but he’s a fool for the boy. Raylan thread his fingers through Boyd’s hair and smiles big, taking a step back. It’s a whole second until he manages to look away from Boyd, but then he turns around towards the shower.

As he turns the shower’s knobs and makes the water warm enough for it to be comfortable to spend a long time inside, Raylan is aware of movement behind him – he’s pretty sure Boyd is finally getting out of those jeans. It makes his heart beat faster, but he doesn’t turn, just waits. Finally, Boyd steps behind him, both arms encircling his waist and his whole naked body pressing against Raylan’s back. It’s not urgent, though. Boyd kisses his neck, sucks at a point right below his ear, breaths in Raylan’s scent; lick his collarbone, bites lightly at his shoulder. Raylan leans his head back on Boyd’s shoulder, closing his eyes and allowing himself to just feel, convinced he could spend the whole night standing with Boyd’s left hand over his heart, Boyd’s mouth tracing his body lightly. That is, up until the point where Boyd’s right hand started to travel lower, finger tips dipping under Raylan’s waistband.

“Asshole,” Raylan says under his breath, turning and claiming Boyd’s mouth in another deep kiss, trying hard to pretend he’s not dying to stare at Boyd’s cock.

“Thought it was ‘bout time we got this show on the road.”

“Eager, much?” Raylan is finally opening his own jeans.

“Yes, yes I am. So fuckin’ eager,” Boyd pulls Raylan’s jeans down, hurrying the process along and licking at Raylan’s naked chest at the same time. “Oh, and Raylan? You can look, ya know? I surely won’t be shying away.”

Boyd pointedly looks down at Raylan’s hard on, taking him in his hand without a moment of hesitation; as if this is something they do every other day. When he looks back up, Raylan can barely close his mouth, panting already, hands over Boyd’s spiky hair.

He gets to look then, look at Boyd’s hard cock pressing against his thigh, leaking already, warm and demanding, seeking for friction. Raylan figures he pictured this every other night, and that he’s not some virgin girl, he has a cock of his own which he’s very well acquainted with, so there’s really no reason for his fingers to be shaking as he takes Boyd in his hand, as he closes a fist around Boyd’s dick. No reason, except this slow hand job is so much more intense than anything else Raylan has ever done before, it’s Boyd’s cock, it’s something he always wanted but never thought he could really have, it’s the moment he was dying for. He hears a moan and can’t rightly tell which one of them is moaning.

He grabs harder at Boyd, finally getting over his own nerves, fingers squeezing the hard flesh, his other hand holding Boyd by his shoulders, short nails digging in his skin. Boyd moans loudly, and of course he would get off on a bit of pain – Raylan stores the knowledge for later, smiling against his neck and licking over his ear, earning an even louder response.

“You wanna see me blow my load too soon, that what this is about?” Boyd asks against his lips, stopping Raylan’s hand from working him too fast.

“Wanna hear you scream, Boyd. Be dyin’ for it for so long… all this time. All this time…”

Boyd takes a step back then, looking straight at Raylan with a strange light behind his eyes. It’s like he just now understands how much time Raylan spent waiting and wanting. His smile is small and full of amazement; his fingers are not moving against Raylan’s skin, just resting there.

Finally he breaks the spell, shaking his head and looking down for a second, as if ashamed for the amount of feeling this night is providing. They’re not just messing around and they both know it, know how much is at stake right now and how much it’ll mean for them. Raylan steps back as well, taking a deep breath and looking away from Boyd.

They step inside the shower together without saying a word. Helen’s shower is good enough that the stream washes over both skinny boys without much of a problem – it’s not like they are trying to keep their distance. Raylan wants to say something, break the silence, but every time he raises his eyes to look at Boyd something contracts in his chest, and he’s not sure his voice will even work right now. He gets even closer, his wet body meeting Boyd’s skin.

They are not reaching for each other, not yet: their arms are hanging beside their bodies, as if they are not allowed to touch. Their lips are a breath apart. Raylan can feel the weight of Boyd’s hard cock against his thigh, but he’s not rubbing as he was, they’re both standing under the warm water getting soaking wet and watching each other with lowered eyelids.

Finally Raylan grabs at Boyd’s bicep, a firm grip. He intends to slam Boyd against the tiles, make the boy turn around and bite his shoulder, but the moment his fingers close around Boyd’s arm he feels taken by a strange languidness, or not even that, but for the second time this night Raylan feels as if there’s tenderness and care in every move he makes.

That’s not the plan; something reminds him in his mind. All those nights picturing Boyd naked beside him, and he never once thought about making love to the man, it was always about need and pain and darkness and filth. It was always a secret shared in the dark woods while they still smelled like coal, teeth and nails and bones, hard fucks and come stains. It was never… this.

…but maybe, maybe that’s because Raylan was always so ashamed of feeling this way, always so conscious that what he felt was sick and twisted and horrible in many ways, and that’s why he couldn’t bring himself to picture kissing Boyd slowly under a warm stream, their faces clear in the bathroom light, their touches slow and… and loving. Yes, he could admit to himself the attraction, the hotness of it all, but always like a dirty porn fantasy, loud moans and slapping bodies. This intimacy was something else, something impossible, something that he could have never dreamed of, never planned.

But as he feels the slow movement of Boyd’s tongue against his, Raylan decides that he doesn’t really give a fuck about his own plans anymore.

He lets his hands travel Boyd’s wet body, enjoying the muscles under his fingers. Finally Boyd starts to rock against him once again, his hard cock dragging against Raylan’s thigh. Raylan raises Boyd those last few inches needed for their cocks to touch, and Boyd stood in the shower on his tip toes, half leaning on the tiles, half held by Raylan’s hands. Once they were thrusting against each other, they both moaned, lips meeting even though they didn’t have enough coordination to kiss.

They rock like that for a while, the water making everything slippery and keeping them warm. Raylan loses any notion of time, driving against the hard, warm flesh of Boyd’s sex, water getting inside his open mouth as he pants, out of breath. His fingers find the boy’s ass again, squeezing the flesh and digging in his nails lightly on, finding it amazing that he can touch like that, that he’s allowed.

Boyd moans loudly and goes even higher on his tip toes. At first Raylan wonders if Boyd is trying to escape the fingers, but then he gets that the other man is just trying to make Raylan’s hands go lower. His heart beating fast, Raylan touches Boyd’s entrance with his finger tip, hands spreading his ass. Boyd tenses but doesn’t pull back, doesn’t try to break free, and that’s incredible, not just for the promise of pleasure – the promise of getting the fuck Raylan was dying to get for years – but because of the implied trust in the act. The fact that Boyd might – scratch that, he definitely – wants it too. It’s all too much, and Raylan doesn’t even try to press his finger inside, the only thing he can do is kiss Boyd and press against him, the same slow rocking keeping their bodies moving.

“Ray… Raylan,” Boyd is moaning his name, trying to talk and kiss him at the same time. “If you… gonna fu… _fuck me, oh_ … you gotta do it now, I ain’t gonna last long.”

But Raylan doesn’t even care that they don’t get to the grand finale, he can die a happy man knowing his cock and fingers have the power to weaken Boyd Crowder’s ability to speak. He turns Boyd around anyway, since this isn’t an invitation that he’s planning on denying, but he can barely think right as he presses his dick down on the crevice of the other boy’s ass, getting off on the friction alone.

Yes, this is either going to happen right now or it won’t be happening in the next half an hour.

Boyd pushes back against him, and they’re finally gaining speed, movements getting less erotic and more downright pornographic, as if the lack of eye contact made this more about sex than it was before. It’s still Boyd’s smell and Boyd’s taste, though, so Raylan’s left wondering what the hell is he forgetting.

“Here, use this.”

Boyd had reached over Aunt Helen’s cosmetics, getting a bottle of something and passing it over to Raylan. It turns out to be some kind of herbal shampoo, and even though Raylan should feel a bit guilty for using the fancy stuff, he’s just glad Boyd hadn’t handed him the shampoo Helen usually uses, otherwise his aunt’s smell might do the almost impossible trick of getting him soft.

He squeezes a good amount of shampoo on his fingers, getting it all over his own abs and Boyd’s back in his hurry. Raylan trails his fingers over Boyd’s crack, rubbing the greenish stuff in circles over the boy’s asshole. Boyd is jerking himself off at the same time, moaning and shaking, and Raylan knows they won’t manage to wait until Boyd’s prepared enough. Making up his mind, Raylan rubs shampoo over his own cock and presses against Boyd, hoping it won’t hurt too badly.

Between the green mess of the herbal shampoo and the water still falling over their heads, everything is slippery. For a while Raylan is just thrusting in Boyd’s crack, and the friction is more than enough, the feeling of the cheeks against his cock better than anything Raylan had ever experienced. Raylan needs his right hand to spread Boyd’s ass, but he’s moving his left one over Boyd’s cock, the feeling of the shampoo and the warmth of Raylan’s fist making Boyd shiver in his arms.

Boyd’s hands are trying to grip for something, the shower knobs, the tiles, until finally he gives up and just reaches back for Raylan, fingers digging into his shoulder and hip. He arches his ass up, and fuck if that’s not an open invitation, the biggest temptation walking the earth right now.

Raylan directs the head of his cock with his right hand, trying to get the angle right. In the first try he only manages to slip in the mess of warm flesh and spilled shampoo. It’s making him insane how much those failed attempts are hot on their own. He has to stop moving altogether for a second, gasping for air and trying to get a hold of his own body before he comes all over Boyd’s back. Finally he feels he a little bit cooled down, and he tries again, this time with better control. His cock is right at Boyd’s entrance now, and Raylan starts pushing in.

It seems impossible at first, and Raylan is not far enough gone that he doesn’t remember he can’t use too much force. He feels Boyd’s muscles clenching and unclenching around him, probably in a knee-jerk reaction, but it’s still stimulating his leaking cock. Boyd moans again and Raylan can only get closer, trying to will the other man to relax.

“Feels so good,” he whispers against Boyd’s neck, licking and kissing there, slowly moving back and forth, still trying to get the head inside, spreading shampoo and pre-come all over the virgin hole. He gets his right hand under the back of Boyd’s thigh, pulling the leg up to make it easier. “So good, Boyd, open up for me, please…”

Boyd is trembling like crazy, leaking all over Raylan’s hand, one leg bent. Raylan makes a circling movement with his hips, feeling the ring of muscle slowly relaxing, getting lost in Boyd’s taste and feel. Boyd’s head falls over Raylan’s shoulder, his neck is exposed and inviting, his face is pure bliss and lack of control, mouth open and eyes closed. It’s just too easy to speed up the pace of his left hand and make Boyd moan again and again, lost in his own edge.

Raylan rocks in one more time, finally feeling the ring open, Boyd’s body letting him inside. He manages to get the head of his cock in that amazing heat, at last breaching Boyd, and the heat, intensity of being inside is so strong he has to bite on Boyd’s shoulder to prevent himself from screaming. It’s a terrible idea, in the end: the pain of the bite combined with the fullness of being penetrated for the first time and Raylan’s fast jerking got Boyd off all at once, making him come hard in Raylan’s hand and on Helen’s tiles. He curses out loud and tenses all over, his muscles closing around Raylan’s cock head – it’s too much for him as well, and he’s coming inside of Boyd before he can even bury himself properly. In a second, it’s all over, and they’re both left shaking in each other’s arms.

As soon as the afterglow started to fade, Raylan felt the burn of shame: he wasn’t even sure he was more ashamed of coming so fast or of coming inside of Boyd, no warning whatsoever. He steps back, feeling his face warming up and looking at his own feet – the apology is right at the tip of his tongue. 

But, as he opens his mouth, Boyd beats him to it: “That was damn good, son.” He was breathless and still shaking, turning around slowly and looking straight at Raylan. “All of it.”

They share a smile – a sly, wicked smile, like the ones they used to share when they were drinking stolen moonshine in the woods when they were thirteen. Raylan relaxes then, because this is it, this is what they are.

“Didn’t get to fuck you,” he says under his breath, not as ashamed as he was, sitting on the tub to rest his tired limbs.

“Raylan, my friend, do not worry ‘bout that,” Boyd sat by his side, their shoulders brushing in a casual manner, but it made Raylan’s heart beat faster anyway. “We’ll get plenty of time to do whatever we please in the days to come.”

The way Boyd said the word “please” was a pleasure in itself, warming Raylan’s already mushy insides. Those things would be his end, Raylan was sure of it: their feet tangling, the brush of black spiked hair against his cheek, Boyd’s open and bright smile, the amount of naked skin. Raylan would die under the weight of this happiness.

“Plenty of time, hm?” he couldn’t help but ask, joy clear in his voice. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

“Oh, this ain’t a plan, boy, it’s somethin’ better than that. This a promise.”

Better, yes. As he closed his eyes, satisfied, Raylan couldn’t agree more.


End file.
